The pavement hard, the nights so long,
A whispered wind, a lonesome song.
He walks unseen through crowded streets,
The world keeps moving, loud and bright,
But he remains—a ghost in sight.
Doors stay locked and eyes look past,
As if his presence fades too fast.
A coat too thin, the cold seeps in,
Memories lost beneath his skin.
Once there was a time, a place,
Where laughter lived upon his face.
But now the stars are all he knows,
A bed of stone where sorrow grows.
Yet still, he dreams—a door ajar,
A fire lit, a guiding star.
A simple touch, a glance that stays,
Could mend the dark in countless ways.
For every soul without a key,
Deserves a chance to simply be.
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